


The Laundry B****

by OneofaKind33



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Laundry day, Make Top Squirm, McG and Jaz are petty af, Team as Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15091013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofaKind33/pseuds/OneofaKind33
Summary: Never get between McG, Jaz, and a laundry machine. In the wise words of Preach, "they play dirty."Or, alternatively, Cheating and Sabotage.Cross-Posted on Fanfiction.net





	The Laundry B****

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what happens when I'm doing a month's worth of laundry while doing a counter-terrorism reading for a Global Politics class... the only obvious connection is our fave Team getting into fights over their laundry.  
> For everyone who loves the daily stuff/fluff.  
> Jaz & McG being the siblings they both deserve. The usual Jaz/Dalton is there, and requiring less squinting than usual.
> 
> Warning for Mature Language

Laundry Day in the quonset was always a mess. Laundry Day in the quonset during the last week of deployment was a downright disaster. 

“How many loads of fucking laundry do you have, Vallins?” McG shouted, staring incredulously at the sorted piles blending together on Elijah’s bunk. 

“I don’t go straight home to my mother so she can do my laundry.” 

McG scoffed, affronted. “Excuse you. I do my own laundry. In fact, I do her laundry too. So fuck you, Vallins.” 

Elijah grinned at him, mischievous to the point of devious. Laughter trilled from behind McG. 

“Did I just hear that McG is his mom’s Laundry Bitch? Because I’ve never loved that woman more.” 

McG groaned. “You knew she was there, you rat bastard.” 

Jaz was draped across the doorway, eyebrows lifted dramatically. Her smirk was definitely devious. 

“Never stand with your back to the door, McG. Everyone knows,” Elijah tutted. 

McG shook his head and shouted towards the rest of the living quarters, “Everybody look out: The Wonder Twins are in a fucking _mood_ and think they’re fucking hilarious.” He threw his hands in the air— either in exasperation or surrender, it was hard to tell— and exited the room, shoving Jaz slightly with his hip as he passed. 

Jaz sauntered in, still smirking. Elijah knew this would be one of her last happy days; the last three days of deployment always made Jaz moody, and if teasing McG about his mom made her feel better than he’d play her game. 

“McG’s right— that’s a shit-ton of clothing. Do you not do laundry… ever?” Jaz eyed his precarious stacks, judging him. 

“Only the stuff I wear all the time. I wore that shirt once in 10 months and it was only because we got sent to Greece,” he pointed at a strikingly orange t-shirt, “and like you can talk. I saw your room. It looks like an IED went off in there.”

“You can share loads with 3 other guys. I’m not putting my leggings in with your shit, it fucks up the fabric and they’re expensive.” She flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder, hip cocked.

“Whatever, Princess. Get out of my way.” Elijah scooped a pile into his arms and made for the door. Jaz barred him, scowling. 

“Eli. There’s, like, five shirts and a hoodie in that load. Don’t be a dick and take up the machine. You can put at least two of those piles in with those.”

“Are you panicking because your scared I’m gonna use up all the time and you’ve actually got an entire mountain that needs to be washed?” He was teasing, but he gestured to for her to add to his arms anyway. 

“No. But we’ve got four days left. Chances are we’re getting called out, we all know it, and then we’re only gonna have time to throw our field clothes in before we got to go back.” 

Jaz always said _back_ or _stateside_. Elijah had never heard her refer to the country she served proudly as _Home._ Jaz thought of _Home_ as people.

She threw three of his piles together and dumped them into his arms. “And I’m running out of underwear. So, hurry up. I need to get the machine before McG.” 

Elijah laughed, a grin taking over his face as he traipsed towards where the laundry units were stacked in the corner of the big supply closet. 

Jaz followed to perch of the counter, noticing that McG was in the cage trying to organize and store any extraneous medical equipment that wasn’t for his field kit. She made a note to sneak in to mess up the bandages when no one was watching. He’d be too busy trying to fix that to watch for when Elijah finished his laundry and the machine would be hers. 

“Why is McG muttering about laundry being his chore since he was 10?” Preach asked as he walked past the cage. Jaz figured his relaxed countenance had something to do with going home to his in-house laundry. And probably something to do with seeing his family too. But still, he didn’t have to worry about dragging his laundry all the way to a scuzzy basement, or worse, a laundromat. 

“Jaz called him his mom’s Laundry Bitch,” Elijah snorted, pressing start on the washer.

McG continued to mutter (now something about medical tubing) but he stretched his arm high enough that everyone could see his symbolic opinion.

“Where can I get me one of those?” Dalton smirked, standing in the doorway, confused but amused. 

“Like you need one,” Preach pointed at his friend as he walked past, “you’re the only one here who always has yours done.”

Dalton chuckled, lounging in his desk chair, and head tilted futilely in Elijah and Jaz’s direction. “Not my battle.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy with _three pieces of shrapnel still in his shoulder_!” growled McG. He also mumbled something that sounded like, “just go to the damn doctor.” 

Dalton rolled his eyes, even as he avoided leaning back too much on his left side. Maybe he should let McG take a third look. 

“Just make a schedule. It‘d fix this, this free for all,” he gestured at them all again. Sometimes he swore his team were middle schoolers. 

Three voices started to complain about McG’s cheating, Jaz’s sabotage, and Elijah’s early-rising habits, which were somehow both cheating and sabotage. 

“Let them fight it out. It’s more entertaining,” Preach grinned at him, “and lucrative. I bet you a 50 that McG gets the machine next, just for all his whining.” 

Once again, McG’s arm shot up with a single finger elegantly raised. 

Behind Preach’s back, Dalton saw the tilt to Jaz’s smirk. He caught her eye. Her smirk curled into a smile. Dalton knew better than to bet against that smile.

“I’ll take that action, Preach.”

* * *

 Preach lost his money. And no matter what McG said, it had absolutely nothing to do with Dalton calling Patton (and the damn dog actually listening) and tripping McG as he bolted towards the laundry machine from the pile of unrolled bandages in the cage, all so that Jaz could win.

And if Dalton used some of said money to buy a box of Jaz’s favourite cookies, then it was a complete coincidence. 

* * *

“Eli, do me a favour and grab my load from the dryer,” Jaz yelled as she poked at the strips of chicken in the skillet.

“Do it yourself,” he said, angrily jabbing at the controller in his hand. Preach crowed in success beside him, for once successful against one of the young ones. 

“Shit, Jazzy. You made me lose!” 

“You just suck,” she scoffed, slamming the oven door shut in the warming tortillas. 

“Rematch, Preach. Jaz can get her own fucking laundry,” growled Elijah. 

“And you can make your own fucking dinner,” Jaz retorted. Fajitas were the one thing she made well. Maybe because most of the work came out of a package.

“McG! Do me a favour and grab Jaz’s laundry out of the dryer,” Elijah pleaded as McG walked into the room, already starting the new game with Preach. Preach just shrugged at Jaz. 

“If it means I get first plate, sure,” McG ambled last the kitchen, grabbing a slice of carefully chopped orange pepper. Jaz glared at him, but relented as he grabbed her laundry basket and opened the dryer. He balanced the basket on a raised knee and started scooping her clothes into it. 

“Jesus, Jazzycat. How many pairs of underwear do you have?” Somehow McG managed to make the question both teasing and incredulous, without making it creepy. 

“I will burn your food,” she threatened. 

“Leave her alone, McG. We all know Jazzy binge-shops,” yelled Elijah from the couch.

It’s was true. She did, and they’d seen it every time they got to DC for debriefs. Jaz couldn’t even argue about it. BOGO was the way to her heart.

“There is always a sale for underwear on somewhere. Go to hell, all of you.” 

McG was just baffled. “Who needs more than seven pairs of underwear?” 

“Everyone, McG,” Dalton said from the cage where he was cleaning his gear. “Well, everyone who doesn’t think turning them inside out makes them clean.” 

McG’s indignant protests were lost in the din of everyone’s laughter and then Preach’s second victory. 

“You know what, whatever. Ha, ha. I get first dibs on dinner. Jaz, where do want this?” 

She indicated vaguely in the direction of her room. Jaz waited until he’d slid through her open door and shared a gleeful smile with Elijah before she called out, “Does this make you my Laundry Bitch?” 

* * *

 It goes without saying, that for his birthday McG received a ridiculous amount of underwear. 

* * *

 “Oh come on, you couldn’t have done this before you knew I have to do mine?” McG pushed off from the doorway of Jaz’s room and followed her through the living area. 

“Nope.”

It was ridiculously hot outside, too hot for horseshoes or existing, and McG was desperately bored. Bored enough to do laundry. Bored enough to push Jaz’s buttons.

“Why do you have to have so many loads?” 

Jaz dropped her laundry basket to the ground with a crack of plastic and slowly started to switch her clothes from the washer to the dryer. Too slowly. That bitch.

“Because I don’t walk around shirtless 90% of the time. Do you even have shirts to wash?” 

“It’s hot out, Jaz. And seriously. Can’t you just let me sneak in one load?” 

“Nope.” 

“Whyyyyy?” He dragged out he word as annoyingly as he could. If he annoyed her then maybe they could spar and he wouldn’t be fucking bored. 

“It’s a hassle that’s why. I never do laundry until I’m completely out of underwear or socks.” 

McG could have sworn he’d seen a stack of paired socks in her footlocker. He paused, _Laundry Bitch_ on repeat inside his brain, and smiled slyly. Over a year later and he’d never gotten back at her for that comment. He glanced up to make sure Dalton was in hearing range and tilted his head calculatingly. “Completely out of underwear?” 

Jaz shrugged at him, trying to stuff as many pairs of jeans in the washer as she could. “What?”

“Jazzycat,” McG gasped loudly, much louder than even remotely necessary, “are you going commando right now?” 

Jaz jumped to stand, probably aware exactly how on display her ass had been bent over in front of the machine in her tiny workout shorts. The washer’s door slammed shut. “What’s it to you, McG?”

McG smiles innocently, fully aware that Dalton was staring much too intently at his tablet. 

Jaz’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t know exactly what he was playing at but she knew he was playing and she refused to give him a reaction. 

McG’s smile got even slyer. Jaz’s eyebrow raised delicately. She was just as bored as he was. He could try to make her crack— she dared him. 

“Nothing. Bold move, Jazzy, not even having emergency underwear. How many times that screw you over when we get called out?” His eyebrows raised, daring her instead. Somehow it had switched from a bored game of _Annoy Jazzy_ to a game of _Make Top Squirm._

The corner of Jaz’s mouth curled upwards. “That black dress in Budapest wasn’t meant to be worn with underwear anyway.” 

“You are my hero, Jaz Khan,” McG said, voice lowered conspiratorially.

She shrugged, nonchalantly leaning back down to set the machine. If it was McG’s imagination that made it seem like she was sticking her ass out more than necessary, then it had nothing to do with their game. 

It wasn’t his imagination. 

Behind them, Top had stilled to the point it seemed like he was trying to pretend he wasn’t there. McG had watched the guy nearly have an aneurism when Jaz walked out of the bathroom in that dress— a reaction that would have been missed if it wasn’t McG’s job to know his teams tells; a reaction Preach had quietly ribbed Dalton about for a week— and the knowledge that nothing had been under it was clearly not doing him any favors. McG wondered if Top knew how utterly fucking transparent he was sometimes. 

Jaz gave McG a look that said she was shutting down whatever he was up to, and grabbed the basket full of newly clean clothes. As she brushed past him she whispered, “ _Laundry Bitch.”_

The heat of the clothes in the basket, fresh out of the dryer, matched McG’s irrational fury at one dumb insult. It irritated him like nothing else and worse, Jaz knew it. And even worse, this was supposed to be his sweet, sweet vengeance for that exact insult. 

He wasn’t proud of what came next. 

McG grabbed an extra blanket stacked in the supply closet and waited until Jaz was two steps away from Dalton’s desk. “You forgot this.” 

As Jaz turned, probably to tell him to fuck off, he whipped it. And for once, Jaz didn’t catch it. 

Jaz swore as the blanket collided with the side of her head and knocked her off balance. As her left hand reflexively came up to block it a second too late, the basket tilted, sending the top contents flying. 

“What the fuck, McG?” Jaz said, scrambling to grab her clean clothes off the less than clean floor. 

McG’s jaw dropped into an _o_. This has gone a little further than he’d intended. Because of course, of course, the one thing that landed directly on the tablet that Dalton was still staring entirely too hard at, was the one pair of sexy underwear in Jaz’s entire laundry load. 

Jaz was as cool as Dalton was stoic but they both froze a little too long while the underwear in question sat on the tablet. 

“Top, can you throw those in the basket? McG’s being a fucking tool,” Jaz’s voice was even, too even. 

And because now it was basically a game of chicken, of course Dalton had to just reach out and grab them, no hesitation. He tossed them in the basket, the soft-pink lace entirely too feminine to be anything but sexy as it stood out against the dark utility of her other clothing. 

McG held his breath and Jaz straightened up with the basket. Dalton picked the blanket off the ground by his chair and threw it at McG. 

“Make a damn schedule, you two.” 

* * *

 Amir glanced back at Preach, eyes wide. They were sitting in the shade of the quonset, steps from the doorway. 

“I may have heat stroke from sitting out here too long, but it’s still better than being in the middle of whatever just happened in there.” 

Preach took a swig from his water bottle, shaking his head. “Never get between Jaz, McG, and a washing machine. They play dirty.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Preach and Amir know better than to walk into a war zone without their equipment. 
> 
> Written in my go-to style of timeless scene jumping from featuring Elijah to featuring Amir. I could not give a timeline for when this happens if I tried. It's just there- any time and no time. 
> 
> Honestly, I think just from the way Jaz talked about him (and cuz headcannon for this fandom is remarkably consistent and unfortunately all we have left) that Elijah would have been the biggest shit disturber and when combined with Jaz its just...chaos. No one is safe. And therefore, the Wonder Twins (like the old Super-Friends cartoon) are born. 
> 
> McG ain't stupid and he ain't blind. The whole team knows exactly whats up with Adam and Jaz even if they're too dumb to see it/admit it. The best kind of relationship on TV. And we all know that McG would try to "subtly" matchmake and screw up all Preach's hard work. 
> 
> I thought of the words Laundry Bitch and this just kind of escalated. The name was inspired by Don't Trust the B**** in Apartment 23 (which is iconic af).
> 
> Love me some reviews.


End file.
